The Mystery of Pirates' Cave
by James Breitbart
Summary: Frank and Joe Hardy get invited to go spelunking with their pal Chet Morton in the caves around Bayport. They've been in caves before, but they aren't prepared for what they find in Pirates' Cave.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Iola Morton answered the door of her home, a restored stone farmhouse just outside the city limits of Bayport, to find her boyfriend, Joe Hardy, standing next to his older brother Frank. Joe was 14, with wavy blond hair, blue eyes and an athletic build. Frank, almost sixteen, was slightly slimmer in build and had straight black hair and brown eyes.

"Joe! You didn't tell me we had a date."

"Sorry, Iola, but we're here strictly to see Chet. Apparently we've been drafted into participating in his latest hobby, whatever it is."

"Spelunking."

"I suppose we should be glad he's not trying to jet-propel his bike again."

"Or doing scrimshaw."

"Hey, that actually helped us bust up a gang of carnival pickpockets," Frank reminded her.

"But we were picking bits of whale teeth out of the carpet for the next six months. Come on, he's in the barn."

The Hardys followed Iola out to the Morton family's barn, where Chet was busily arranging an assortment of ropes.

"How'd you two like to go exploring Pirate's Cave Saturday?"

Joe ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry, Chet. We're working all Saturday."

"I didn't know you guys had jobs."

"We're helping the police department bust convenience stores that don't card minors. It's not exactly _The Wire,_ but you could see why we don't want everyone talking about it. What about Biff?"

"Biff and Jerry have a baseball game, Phil's going to his cousin's bar mitzvah in New Haven, Tony's working, and everybody else is either out of town or doesn't want anything to do with caving."

"If Tony's working Saturday then I definitely know where we're going for dinner," Joe said.

"That's just what I was thinking, but it isn't safe to go spelunking by yourself."

Joe looked at his girlfriend. "Iola?"

"Forget it. I'm getting pizza with you guys."

"What about Sunday?" Frank asked.

Chet thought for a moment. "That'll work."

"We just have to ask our parents," Frank responded.

"Well if Joe comes, I suppose I could be persuaded."

After a lengthy discussion of various school-related matters, the two Hardy brothers rode their bikes back to the family home at the corner of Elm and High streets. The garage was already home to a yellow 1964 Ford Mustang that Frank was hoping to have restored by his 16th birthday and a wide array of surveillance equipment, which Professor W. Fenton Hardy IV was examining.

"What's up, dad?" Frank ask.

"You've heard of the Arm Mangler?"

"The serial killer that's leaving severed arms all over New York?"

"That's the one. Some of my old friends on the force want me to help them out." Professor Hardy had been a detective with the New York City Police Department before earning his doctorate and accepting a position teaching criminology at UMass Bayport.

"Did you boys need something?"

"Actually," Frank spoke up, "Chet wants us to go spelunking with him Sunday afternoon."

"Spelunking?"

"It's his latest hobby."

Professor Hardy sighed, "At least it's not taxidermy."

The boys nodded in unison, remembering the six week period during which Chet had constantly smelled of formaldehyde.

"Ahh…the thing is, my sister Trudy's coming to visit."

"Oh." Joe was unable to hide his disappointment.

"Go ahead and ask your mother. She might prefer for you two to be, out of the way, as it were."

"Good idea."

Frank and Joe found Mrs. Hardy in the kitchen braising lamb chops.

"Something sure smells good," Joe remarked.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to butter me up," his mother responded.

"As luck would have it, we were coming to ask you something."

"Out with it."

"Chet Morton wants us to go spelunking on Sunday…"

"Spelunking? Is this the latest hobby?"

"Yeah."

"Poor Tracy, and I thought I had troubles with you boys getting mixed up in your father's cases."

"We didn't realize Aunt Gertrude was coming."

"And I suppose a conversation about the hobbies I allow you boys to partake in will be a break from her opinions of her neighbors and my cooking. You can go, but only if the lawn is mowed and all your homework is done."

"Sure thing, thanks Mom." Frank went upstairs to assess his homework assignments. While most boys did homework at the last possible minute, the Hardys completed months' worth at a time during Aunt Gertrude's visits, having found that the need to study was the one sure-fire excuse to retreat to their room for hours at a time.

After completing the assessment, Frank went into the garage where his brother was intently studying the Mustang's engine.

"You know, it wouldn't be too hard to get a V12 in here."

"Planning on taking it to Le Mans?"

"You never know when we'll be in a high speed chase."

"Sure, but for now we're still stuck at bicycle speed. Come on, we're supposed to meet Lieutenant Riley."

Joe looked at his watch. "That we are."

The boys walked downtown to the parking lot of a convenience store, were Police Lieutenant Conway Riley was waiting for them in an unmarked car.

"Same as usual?" Frank asked.

"Yep."

The boys went inside the convenience store. Frank picked up a case of beer while Joe pretended to browse. He noticed a flashlight on sale.

_That might come in handy this weekend, _he thought to himself.

Joe found his older brother and they went up to the sales clerk, who was listlessly thumbing through a magazine. She looked only a few years older than the Hardys, although her weary expression suggested she had led a much more difficult life than they had. Joe couldn't help feeling sorry for her as she rang up the boys' purchases.

_I'll just give her one more chance._

"Will that be all?" she asked.

"Actually, can I get a carton of Marlboro's."

Joe winced as she reached into the case. _Some people you just can't help._

The boys proceeded outside with their purchases and handed Officer Riley the cigarettes, .beer and receipt.

"What's with the cigs?" Riley asked.

"I thought I'd give her a second chance," Joe explained, "no luck, obviously."

Riley shrugged, "You and your bleeding heart. But what about the flashlight."

"Oh, that's for us. We're going spelunking this Sunday."

"Lemme guess, Chet Morton."

"You must be psychic."

"Yep...and I'm seeing...me having to rescue you kids from Lover's Grotto."

"That's were you're wrong. We're going to Pirates' Cave, and I think Chet's done his homework this time."

"He did his homework before he bought that Chinese junk, too."

"Yeah, but you know how Barmet Bay gets."

"I guess, anyway, see you kids Saturday."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

As soon as they got home from church that Sunday, the Hardy boys raced upstairs to change into spelunking-appropriate clothes. They kissed their mother goodbye and were almost to the door when they were accosted by Aunt Gertrude.

"Where do you two think you're going?"

"Mom said we could go over to Chet Morton's" Frank did not feel it necessary to explain the purpose of their trip.

"You wouldn't rather spend time with your Aunt Gertrude. I'm not here every day you know."

_Sure as hell feels like it,_ both boys thought inwardly. Outwardly, Joe merely explained that they had made plans before knowing she was coming.

"Well, I suppose if your mother says it's alright, and Chester is such a nice boy." Aunt Gertrude's relationship with Chet Morton was an enduring mystery to everyone in the Hardy household. Possibly it had something to do with the fact that Chet was the only person known to genuinely like Aunt Getrude's cooking.

The Hardys made their way to the garage, packed the flashlight and sandwiches in a backpack, and rode off for Pirates' Cave.

They met Chet and Iola at the entrance to the cave. Chet had clearly gone all in on the spelunking thing and was decked out in a spectacular assortment of caving gear.

"Alright boys," he announced with a serious mien, "the first and most important aspect of spelunking is safety. Now…"

The Hardy brothers had been spelunking before. Mrs. Hardy, an investigative reporter for _The Bayport Herald,_ had taken them with her to research an article about gang violence in Belize two summers before, and they had spent much of the trip exploring cenotes. Since then, they had explored several of the caves around Bayport, including Pirates' Cave. However, Chet had clearly invested a great deal of time in preparing his lecture, so they feigned ignorance and nodded along in agreement.

When Chet had finished the safety demonstration, the group donned helmets and proceeded into the cave. After several hundred feet, the cave came to a pitch that the group had to rappel down.

Iola was the first one down. "Hey, look at this!" she called up.

"What is it?" Chet yelled.

"I dunno, some kind of bags or something."

"We'll take a look when we get down." The boys rappelled down the pitch and shone their flashlights on the mysterious bags.

"Who would leave something like that down here?" Chet wondered.

"Someone who didn't want someone else to see it," Joe answered, "wait a second." He bent down and opened one of the bags with his pocketknife. A brown powdery substance spilled out.

Frank let out a low whistle. "It's heroin."

"You mean we've stumbled on a drug smuggling operation?" Chet asked. He was suddenly nervous.

"Looks like it."

"Then we'd better get out of here, before they come back!"

"You're right, but first, does anybody have their phones on them?"

"Uh, Frank," Iola said, "I don't think we're going to get reception down here."

"I meant to take a picture. We'll want evidence in case the smugglers get back before we do."

"I would have brought my phone," Chet said, "but I didn't want to risk it getting wet."

"Same here," Joe said.

"We'll just have to hope whoever it is doesn't come back soon."

"You can say that again!" Chet exclaimed.

"I'll go ahead and take this bag back with us," Joe said, "the cops can test it to make sure it really is heroin.

The slit bag was stuffed in the backpack and the group proceeded as quickly as possible back up the pitch. They left the cave and walked up the beach to Shore Road. Fortuitously, Officer Riley happened to be driving by at that exact moment, and Frank flagged him down.

"I guess you kids made it through the caves without needing to be rescued after all," the patrolman remarked.

"Yeah, but we aren't the only people who've been in that cave lately," Joe said, "look."

Officer Riley's eyes widened as he peered into the bag. "Is that what I think it is?"

"That's what we want the crime lab to tell us."

"Yeah, and they'll want it as soon as possible. Leave your bikes, we need to get this to the station ASAP."

The kids filed in to the squad car. Officer Riley radioed in and drove to the police station. While he took the backpack into a back office, Frank used the police station's pay-phone to call his parents.

A few minutes later, Officer Riley returned, followed by Police Chief Era Collig.

"I've got to hand it to you two," the chief remarked, "you must have inherited your father's detective genes."

"Actually Iola found this," Joe said modestly, "we were just along for the ride."

"Hmm…did you see how many more there were?"

"I didn't get an exact count, but off the top of my head I'd say 20 or 30."

"Jesus, if this does turn out to be heroin, and I don't see what else it could be, that'd be worth over a million dollars. Where'd you find it?"

"Pirates Cave."

"We were spelunking," Chet explained.

"Hmm…follow me."

The Hardys and Mortons followed Chief Collig into a back office, where he unfurled a map of Bayport's coast.

"Hmm…It doesn't look like there's any other entrances to this cave."

"Which means whoever did this doesn't expect to need an escape route. They might only be storing it there for a short time."

"Well they sure as hell aren't having a hard time selling it. The heroin problem around here's exploded in the past couple of years. We've had over 70 overdose calls since 2010. How far back in the cave was this?"

"Just past the first major pitch."

"This may sound stupid, but what exactly is a pitch?"

Chet helpfully explained the basic terminology of caving to chief Collig.

"Hmm…" the chief responded, "we don't exactly have anyone on the force who's trained in spelunking, and I don't want to send you kids down there again, since we don't know how dangerous these people are."

"Agreed," Chet responded.

The police chief thought for a moment. "The best thing to do is probably to watch the cave and nab 'em when they come back, but I don't really have the manpower to keep a stakeout running 24/7. How'd you kids like to help us? You can take over the shifts between when school lets out and whenever your curfew is.

"That definitely sounds more exciting than trying not to get carded at convenience stores," Frank said, "I'm in, and we could probably get some more of our friends to help."

"Excellent, call me tomorrow and we can work out a schedule. In the mean time, Con will take you to pick up your bikes."

"Thanks."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

As soon as school let out that Wednesday, Joe and Phil Cohen rode their bikes down to a bluff overlooking the cave. Officer Riley was waiting for them.

"All yours, boys."

"Any activity?" Joe asked.

"Just the usual, a couple of tourists, kids ditching school…"

"Sounds like a real adrenaline rush."

"It does beat filling out paperwork. Anyway, I'll see you kids at 9:00 if not before then." Riley walked back to his squad car and drove off.

Joe and Phil lay down on the grass. Joe peered through his binoculars at the entrance to Pirates' Cave while Phil quizzed him on vocabulary.

"Engender."

"To bring into existence."

"Vitiate."

"To make impure…"

They continued in this vein for half an hour, and then switched roles. After two rotations, Joe realized that it was almost too dark to read the flash card.

"Figurative."

"Hey!"

"No, genius, that's what horses eat."

"No, look at this!"

Phil handed Joe the binoculars, and he focused them on a boat that had been hauled up on the beach just in front of the cave. He saw three men taking bags out of the boat one by one and carrying them into the cave.

Joe gave the binoculars back to Phil, pulled out his phone, and dialed Officer Riley.

"Riley, here."

"It's Joe Hardy, our guys are here."

"Tell him to hurry up," Phil whispered, "they're getting through those bags pretty quickly."

Joe relayed the message to Officer Riley.

"Don't worry about it," he responded, "we've got guys already on the beach."

Sure enough, within two minutes a police dune buggy roared up on either side of the boat. Joe could here yelling, and then a shot rang out.

"What was that?"

"Don't worry," Phil said, "it was one of the bad guys. It looked like he reached for something but the cop was a quicker draw than he was. Here, look."

Joe took the binoculars. One of the smugglers was lying prone on the beach. The other two had their hands in the air and were kneeling. One of the officers kept her gun on them while another put handcuffs on them.

Phil and Joe could hear the blare of a police siren coming closer. Officer Riley pulled up next to them, lights flashing.

"We're going to take them back to the station in my car," he explained, "you should probably make yourselves scarce. It wouldn't be a great idea for them to know what you look like."

Joe nodded, "So are we good to go home?"

"Actually, the D.A. might want to talk if you saw the shooting. Just in case he claims police brutality or whatever."

"I saw it," Phil volunteered, "he was definitely reaching for something."

"We can meet you at the station, Joe suggested.

The boys both called their parents and then rode their bikes into town. By the time they got to the police station the Hardys and Cohens were waiting for them, along with hot subs from Boccelli's. Joe and Phil were led into separate rooms and thoroughly questioned by attorneys for the Massachusetts Civil Rights office while they wolfed down the sandwiches.

After satisfying the attorneys that the police had acted within the law, the boys were finally released.


End file.
